


my love, my dear

by Quiverquill



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Fairy Tale Curses, Gift Fic, Love at First Sight, M/M, accidental (minor) injury, dimiclaude gift exchange, sort of Cinderella au but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:42:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27816994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quiverquill/pseuds/Quiverquill
Summary: Forever bound by duty and responsibility, Prince Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd is finally offered the chance to relax at the highly anticipated masquerade ball in Enbarr, though he is adamant to keep himself out of sight and out of trouble.But when a mysterious man adorned with golden antlers approaches him for a dance, Dimitri can't find it in his heart to say no.(Written for the Dimiclaude Mini Gift Exchange.)
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 12
Kudos: 66





	my love, my dear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Grumpy_Cupcake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grumpy_Cupcake/gifts).



> For Emily! I hope you enjoy this, I had such a blast writing it. All your prompts were so amazing but I'm such a sucker for fairytales >///<
> 
> This fic was written for [@dimiclaudegifts](https://twitter.com/dimiclaudegifts) on twitter, so be sure to check there to see other people's amazing work too!
> 
> Warnings: accidental injury, falling down stairs, intoxication (sylvain), self-deprecating thoughts (dimitri)  
> All injuries are not serious but just to be safe!
> 
> I hope you enjoy :)

“Sylvain, for the last time, I do not want nor need a wingman!”

There was a clatter and an uncomfortable jolt as the carriage ran over a bump in the road, the two occupants grabbing ahold of the inner walls as they were jostled in their seats until gravity became stable once more. Outside, the wind howled with a chilling force, a telling sign of the swiftly approaching winter. Already in Fhirdiad did the first snow-falls of the year sprinkle the earth, though the snow had seemingly not yet arrived in Adrestia. If one was to look upon the carriage and somehow miss the symbol of House Blaiddyd branded across the side door, the dusting of ice atop every surface of the vehicle would certainly mark it as a carriage of Faerghus.

“Come _on,_ Your Highness!” Sylvain whined, shifting in his seat to get into a more comfortable position, which just so happened to make him lean forward into Dimitri’s personal space. A long carriage ride made him a lot more pushy than normal, as it turned out. “It’s a _masquerade ball._ In Enbarr! Could there _be_ a more perfect chance for you to mingle with all the gorgeous Empire women?”

“I am not there to _mingle,_ Sylvain,” Dimitri shot back at him, his patience for such a trivial discussion worn thin. There was an ache in his lower back that could’ve been avoided had the court of Faerghus allowed Dimitri to travel to Enbarr on horseback and not insisted that he take this uncomfortably cramped carriage instead. He breathed deeply through his nose to hide his irritability, his gaze stern as he pointed it at Sylvain. “I am attending the ball as a representative of Faerghus as is the duty of a prince, and because the Emperor invited me. You’re only here because you asked to come with me, not to be my alleged _wingman.”_

Sylvain pulled back and raised his hands in surrender, obviously sensing an undercurrent of fledgeling anger in Dimitri’s voice. “Alright, okay, fine! I won’t help you, but I’ve heard a rumour that parties in Enbarr start in the evening and don’t end until the same time the next day _._ Twenty-four hours! _”_ Another bump on the road caused Sylvain hands to shoot back to a more balanced position, but his raised eyebrows still regarded Dimitri imploringly. “Even if that’s just an exaggeration, you’re gonna end up dancing with more than a few girls. It’s inevitable. You know that, right?”

“Of course I know that–” Dimitri grabbed the small windowsill for support as the carriage veered to the left sharply– “I was the one who invited you to come with me. Why would you ask me such a thing?” His tone may have contained slightly more snark than Dimitri had intended, but that was also inevitable as his heart filled with dread. Being reminded that he had to dance never failed to make Dimitri’s mood plummet, and he inwardly cringed at the idea of tripping over his own feet at the Imperial Capital. Perhaps he shouldn’t have accepted the invitation after all.

Sylvain didn’t seem to take his crankiness to heart, instead grinning with his teeth, an impish look on his face. “So… don’t you think there’s a good chance that someone might catch your fancy? Even if you don’t end up marrying her, at least you’ll have a good night.” The wink Sylvain shot in his direction made Dimitri’s mouth twist with something sour.

“Enough, already! No one is going to ‘catch my fancy’– I _mean_ it, Sylvain!” He cut off the redhead before he had a chance to interject. Dimitri huffed only slightly melodramatically, turning to stare out the small carriage window. It seemed they were passing through a forest, likely on the cusp of Hresvelg territory. It had just started to rain, and quite heavily. “I will hear no more of this. I swear, we haven’t even arrived yet and I am already counting the hours before I can return to Fhirdiad.”

“Aw, cheer up, Your Highness! I’m sure the ball won’t be that bad. I mean, there’s no way it _can_ be, it’s in Enbarr. That’s, like, a guarantee for an amazing party.”

Dimitri hummed noncommittally, his eyes trained on the view outside the window, and tried to take his mind off the ball. It really was raining quite heavily, edging on stormy weather. He felt bad for the driver that was sitting outside in these downpours. Perhaps Dimitri should offer to drive for a while? No, he’d definitely be refused…

“The whole masquerade thing makes it even better,” Sylvain continued, his voice sounding far away to Dimitri’s ears. “Love the anonymity, I can have a great time and Ingrid can’t even get on my case about it! Isn’t it great?”

“Indeed.” The wind was picking up outside, so much so that an icy draft had started to whistle through the carriage. Dimitri was glad that he’d requested the driver’s seat have safety straps built in, the wind was probably strong enough to knock a young man to the ground. Even though it was barely mid afternoon, it was quite dark, grey clouds blocking any light from view, and it was impossible to see what lay behind the trees that lined the forest path. Perhaps they should stop in the next town they are to pass through in order to take shelter…

“You’re not even listening to me, are you? You know, I tend to think of you as the least uptight among our friends, but sometimes I forget just how big of a stick you have shoved up your–”

A cacophony of shrieks and squeals sounded from the horses outside as the carriage suddenly jerked to a stop, almost catapulting Dimitri from his seat had he not dug his heels into the floor and latched onto the windowsill for dear life. A loud, ominous groaning sound could be heard as Dimitri gathered his bearings, his head jerking up at the noise.

“What in Heaven’s name–”

There was a large crash as the ground shook beneath them, the horses screeching like demons loosed from the realm of eternal flames. Adrenaline surged through Dimitri as he flung open the carriage door to see a tree toppled to the ground across the forest trail mere metres in front of them.

Shock rippled through his body, icing his bones while rainwater pelted his skin. The tree had come horribly close to hitting them. The horses kicked and squealed within their harnesses, the driver leaping off of his seat to calm them before they tipped the carriage. There was movement behind Dimitri as Sylvain exited the carriage, and the redhead gave a low whistle. 

“Whoa, what happened here?” Sylvain asked, ruffled from the sudden halt in their journey.

The driver spun on the spot to face them, his attention removed from the now calm horses as he bowed low to them in the rain. “Y-Your Highness, Lord Gautier!” he shouted over the howl of the wind. “I am terribly sorry for all this commotion! Are you hurt?”

“No need for apologies, we’re both quite alright.” Dimitri was quick to assure the young man who seemed to want to drop to his knees in the mud. “In fact, you have my sincerest gratitude – had you not stopped the carriage in time, that felled tree may have resulted in our doom.” He blinked rapidly to remove the water droplets that gathered on his eyelashes.

The driver didn’t seem to hear everything Dimitri had said over the wind, but he understood him nevertheless. “I-I’m afraid it wasn’t me, Your Highness! I couldn’t see a thing with all the rain.” He pointed over at the horses that pawed at the mud, shaking the rain out of their coats. “The horses were the ones that spooked suddenly, before that tree fell!”

“Truly?” Dimitri wondered aloud as Sylvain passed by the horses to inspect the tree in question. “You say the horses noticed the tree falling?”

“I… well, n-no, Your Highness, I wouldn’t think so; the horses are wearing blinkers, you see!”

Dimitri frowned, the chill of the rain making his thought process sluggish. It was likely that the horses wouldn’t have noticed the tree falling either before it was too late. So what had scared them like that? What had essentially saved their lives?

“Hey, Your Highness, check it out – I think we’ve discovered our accidental saviour!”

Dimitri’s head raised at the sound of Sylvain’s call, his friend beckoning him closer while gesturing towards the ground. He squelched over to him, mud caking his travelling boots while the driver tended to the horses. There, freshly stamped into the wet trail like a royal seal into wax, was the evidence of the being that had intervened at the last second.

“Deer tracks?” Dimitri muttered to himself, incredulous. “Did a deer run in front of the carriage?”

“Seems like it,” Sylvain laughed. “Ran in front of the horses and spooked ‘em just before we walked right under a falling tree. Talk about a lucky break!” Dimitri stared at the footprints in awe as Sylvain slapped him on the back, the smack loud on his wet clothes. He leaned in close to Dimitri so that he could be heard. “Pretty sure the Goddess is smiling at us right now. I’d take this as a good sign for tonight.”

Dimitri smiled at him, though it probably looked more like a grimace as the wind blew harshly into his face. “I suppose it is a sign of good fortune,” he replied thoughtfully, watching the shape of the deer tracks melt away into the mud as the rain fell upon them. His anxiety over dancing melted away with them, replaced with a gratitude for the creature that had unknowingly saved his life, guided by the whims of nature. “You’re right, Sylvain. Thank you, I think I feel a bit better now.”

“Of course I am,” Sylvain laughed, winking at Dimitri. “After all, if our luck continues like this, I’ve no doubt we’ll both score ourselves some lovely ladies later tonight!”

“Oh, for the love of–”

  
  


* * *

  
  


By the time they arrived at the capital, the sun had already dipped below the horizon and the ball had already started hours ago. They were extremely late, which was embarrassing, and Dimitri’s travelling clothes were absolutely destroyed with mud after slipping while trying to push the tree off the road, which was even more embarrassing. Thankfully, the Emperor did not greet him at the door, which Dimitri would’ve considered as strange had he not been several hours late to the party. The servants fortunately did not mention his disgraceful attire, simply showing him to the room that had been prepared for him in advance, telling him that princess Edelgard had personally made the preparations herself. How very thoughtful of her.

About half an hour later, freshly cleaned and dressed in the outfit he’d packed in his suitcase, Dimitri found himself standing in the doorway of the ballroom that was packed wall to wall with masked nobles dressed in embroidered, expensive material. There were rows of tables pushed against the walls with grand assortments of food and drink set upon them, and the centre of the ballroom was large and spacious for dancing.

They’d only just arrived and it was already quite late at night– most Faerghus parties would be wrapping up at this time of night, and yet it was clear that this ball had barely started. Sylvain clearly wasn’t lying when he’d said that parties in Enbarr go on for an obscenely long time.

Dimitri knew there were also a lot of very important people in this room, that much was obvious. It was difficult to tell who a lot of people were however, due to the masks on the faces of everyone in the room, even the servants who weaved between attendees with platters of treats. Most of them, Dimitri and Sylvain included, chose to cover only the upper halves of their faces, their mouths free to drink wine and smile at their dance partners.

Sylvain, as sly as the fox-themed mask he wore, had ducked into the crowd as soon as possible in search of someone to dance with, or rather in his words: “get out there, show off my moves, and drive the ladies wild.” Dimitri had been willing to let him go if only to avoid getting pushed in the direction of every woman in the ballroom.

He was alone now, abandoned by the buffet tables that tasted of nothing to him, twirling a wine glass he hadn’t taken a single sip from. He was surprised no one had approached him by now. With the royal blue of his attire, paired with his very large decorative fur collar and the unsubtle lion theme of his mask, as well as the extremely elaborate embroidery sewn into his lapel, he’d assumed everyone would know who he was. But it seemed he blended in quite well with the rest of the extravagantly dressed ball attendees, as it took nearly an hour for someone to call his name.

“Dimitri? Is that you?”

He turned swiftly at the sound, nearly spilling his wine, surprised by a deep, unfamiliar voice addressing him with no title. It was quite disrespectful to speak to a prince in such a manner after all, but Dimitri was more curious than insulted. His curiosity turned to confusion when he turned to see a person much shorter than him, a full-face mask embedded into a helmet hiding their identity. The mask was slightly disturbing to him, white with red streaked across it like war paint, and they wore decorative (and entirely useless) armour on their robes. They looked out of place in a room full of nobles who had likely never seen battle in their lives. He smiled at them politely, as he would for any stranger.

“Good evening,” he replied, lost on what to say to this person. “I am indeed Dimitri. Who might you be…?”

“Oh,” they said, only their deep voice expressing any emotion at all. “Apologies. It’s me, El.”

Dimitri’s eyebrows shot up, but he supposed Edelgard wouldn’t be able to see that. “El? What happened to your voice?”

He could almost feel her smirking at him under her mask. “A simple voice-altering spell. A diva from the Mittelfrank taught it to me.”

Dimitri nodded in understanding, his posture relaxing as he recognised the stranger as his stepsister. “The Mittelfrank Opera Company? I presume this diva would be the Miss Arnault you’ve told me so much about?”

“Indeed, it would be. Dorothea is quite intuitive with such practical magic.” He could hear her smile even through the strange deepness the spell cast upon her voice, and Dimitri wondered if he would someday get to meet the diva that had somehow managed to worm her way into Edelgard’s small (nearly non-existent) circle of friends. “Enough about that, however. I hadn’t expected you to come, if I’m to be entirely honest with you. You abhor dancing.”

Dimitri winced, hoping his mask would hide it from view, and fiddled with his glass fretfully. Straight to the painful point, then. Edelgard never was one for trivialities.

“While that may be true, I would never pass up the opportunity to participate in such an event. In fact, I am quite happy to be here, if I am to be entirely honest with _you.”_

“Oh, of course. That would explain why you have been hiding in a corner since you arrived without setting one foot on the dancefloor.”

Dimitri frowned at her, the stern set of his mouth clearly visible. “I accepted your father’s invitation, El. You, of all people, should know that I had to come! What more would you have me do?”

Edelgard’s voice was equally stern as she responded. “I’d have you get out there and dance with somebody. Anybody.”

Dimitri set his glass on the table before he broke it in his anxious grip. He shook his head at her, wondering how he could persuade her into letting this go. “I’m horrific at dancing, El. You know this. I would much rather stay here, as I believe that would be in everyone’s best interest.”

Edelgard crossed her arms, the first sign of emotion he’d seen from her body language all night. “If you attend a ball, you are inclined to dance.” Her voice lacked sympathy. “After all the hours I spent teaching you those skills, are you never going to use them? Are you going to throw all my hard work back into my face? Do you believe I’m a bad teacher, Dimitri?”

Dimitri gaped at her, each accusation like a knife to his chest. “What? No, of course not! I–”

“Then get out there!” she pushed, raising her voice only slightly to keep the conversation private. Dimitri was taken aback by her sudden passion, and her strangely deep voice made this situation feel quite bizarre. “Why do you linger over here, refusing to dance, speaking to no one? You’re not even eating the food! What point is there in attending a ball if you refuse to take part in any of the festivities?”

When Dimitri’s tongue finally unstuck itself, his argument felt a bit pathetic, but he held fast to it. “El, you know I can’t do such a thing. To embarrass myself would mean to bring shame to Faerghus! I simply cannot allow myself to indulge in the festivities when I have a duty to represent my people.”

“You think I am not aware of that? Have you forgotten why I am dressed as I am?” She lifted her arms, clearly gesturing towards her clothes. “I hadn’t realised I’d need to spell it out for you.” She tapped her mask with her gauntleted hand impatiently.

Dimitri’s own mask felt heavier on his face.

A masquerade ball… would Dimitri be able to relieve himself of his duties for one night? Edelgard seemed to believe so. To seek him out in a ballroom full of masked individuals just to ease his own state of mind, Dimitri felt quite touched by his stepsister’s actions. But he hadn’t quite gone to the effort that she had to hide her identity. Would he really be able to just enjoy himself, without any regard for the usual consequences?

It sounded too good to be true.

“I… are you sure I won’t be recognised?”

“Positive,” she responded sharply, her tone final. “No one here knows your appearance well enough to do so, besides myself and your Gautier friend.” She acted authoritative, but he could hear the smile in her deep voice once more. “Now, you’re in my palace, under my roof, so if you want to stay you must find yourself a dance partner!”

Dimitri paused, gazing around the room with a mixed heart. Suddenly, he felt like he was in an entirely different place, as an entirely separate person. He didn’t have to play the part of the prince anymore, he could be whoever he wanted to be. But would that person be good enough? Would anyone even want to dance with him, not the prince, but _Dimitri?_

It should have felt like freedom, but his stomach was sick with apprehension. “S-shall I dance with you, then?”

“Oh, you will,” she answered too quickly, “later. Just not now.” She grabbed him by the arms and spun him around, lightly pushing him towards the dancefloor. “Go on, Dimitri. You better have fun.”

“El–”

Dimitri turned to speak, unsure of whether it was protest or gratitude that was on his tongue, but it no longer mattered as Edelgard had already slinked away into the crowd, leaving him to fend for himself.

Right. Okay. This was fine.

He gazed around the ballroom, robotically stalking away from his safe corner and abandoning his wine glass. All he had to do was find a nice woman to dance with. That would be easy, right? There were plenty of nice women here. All he had to do was approach one of them, she would probably be happy to dance with him. Or would she? Wasn’t it bad manners to refuse a dance? Wouldn’t she be forced to dance with him? Would she be so happy if he was to step on her toes constantly, possibly break several bones in her foot with his monstrous strength? Would he ruin her night? Would he ruin the ball, ruin _everyone’s_ night, as the party is put on halt for her to be carried to a medic?

He needed a new glass of wine.

Around him, people swayed gently around the dancefloor, laughed together in small groups, sampled exquisite dishes, and here was the prince of Faerghus, planted awkwardly in the middle of all of them, trying to work up the courage to ask someone to dance with him. Absentmindedly, he fiddled with his fur cloak, combing through it with his fingers as if the action was enough to excuse him from interacting with anyone else.

This was not fine. He shouldn’t dawdle here. He should find Edelgard again and see if she will take pity on him, or maybe ask Sylvain for help, or maybe he should just go to bed, or–

“Well, hello, curious stranger! Care to dance?”

Dimitri was pulled from his spiralling thoughts as a rich and jovial voice caught his attention. There was a hand held out in front of him, tan and ungloved, welcoming. Though the fingertips were calloused, the skin was otherwise smooth, and the hand was large, strong. Dimitri’s eyes travelled up an arm that was lavished in gold material, his gaze catching on a wide smile that was equally as welcoming as the hand’s gesture.

There was a man in front of him, likely around Dimitri’s own age. Vibrant green eyes peered at him through the mask perched upon his nose, the visage made to resemble that of a wild deer. Elegant antlers decorated the crown of his head, golden and bright. He looked like a star even among all of the other guests, and Dimitri wondered if his sudden awe was directed at the man’s striking appearance, or rather at the fact that he hadn’t noticed this individual sooner.

Dimitri blinked, breaking eye contact to glance around swiftly. No, there didn’t seem to be any women nearby. The two of them were enclosed in a small but spacious bubble, made for a pair on the dancefloor.

He looked back to the golden man, confused. “Ah… sorry, are you perhaps speaking to me?”

That seemed to garner a laugh from the stranger, his dulcet tones ringing through Dimitri’s ears like sweet bells. “I am, actually. Though I suppose I didn’t ask properly, did I?” Before Dimitri could object, the man had bowed low to him, the sweeping movement so practised and perfect that the lighthearted gesture seemed near genuine. “Good sir, will you honor me with your hand in dance? I promise not to step on your toes.” His last statement was punctuated with a mischievous wink.

In his chest, Dimitri’s heart skipped a beat. The man’s grin was endearing and infectious, but Dimitri’s stomach sank like a stone even as his chest fluttered with… something. Perhaps it was gratitude, for offering him a line within a sea of responsibilities. His mind buzzed with questions, with confusion, but it turned entirely blank under those green eyes. He didn’t want their ardour to dull with disappointment. 

“I… of course. I mean– I accept! Your proposition. ...To dance.”

“Great!” If the stranger noticed Dimitri’s stuttering, he did not mention it, choosing instead to take his hand – it was _warm_ – and guide him closer towards the centre of the ballroom.

Dimitri was silent as they walked, his mind screaming bloody murder. He was starting to sweat furiously underneath all his fur layers though he hadn’t yet danced even a single step the entire night. Beside him, this nice man was looking forward to dancing with him, unaware of how incapable Dimitri was at such a simple act. He should say something, tell this person that they shouldn’t be out here in front of everyone when Dimitri inevitably trips up the both of them, sending them careening into another dancing couple–

“So, do you want to lead? Or will I?”

His hand had been dropped, left cold even within its glove as they reached their destination. His dance partner gazed at him with an easy expectancy, ready to allow Dimitri to decide how their night should continue. He must’ve noticed how anxious Dimitri felt, how unbecoming of him. Dimitri felt embarrassed that he was so obviously uncomfortable.

He’d never danced with another man before. He hadn’t even considered that as a possibility before now, but the golden man made it feel so normal, so right. He wanted to be honest with this man, no matter how shameful it was to admit his shortcomings.

He sucked in a short breath to steel himself. “I-I must warn you that I am rather… unskilled in the art of dance. I apologise in advance for my lack of grace.”

There was a small surprised chuckle from his company that warmed Dimitri’s chest, though it was cut off quickly, likely in fear of being perceived as derisive or rude. “Don’t worry about it, I’m not exactly a _master_ myself, or anything along those lines.” Dimitri felt his stomach jump as the man leaned in only a hair’s breadth closer, his voice softening in an effort to provide comfort. “If you’re really worried about it though, I could always lead. You can just follow me.”

Dimitri nodded at him, both in agreement with the statement and also to rid himself of the heat that attempted to rise above his fur collar. “That would certainly be agreeable. Thank you, Lord…?”

“Oh, just Claude is fine. This is a party, after all!”

Oh, yes, of course. Dimitri felt foolish for asking about Claude’s title. Even while staring at the beautiful antlers that adorned his company’s head, he’d somehow forgotten he was at a masquerade ball. It seemed strangely natural, the way Claude’s hair curled around his headdress. Dimitri was about to apologise when a warm hand was gently placed upon his waist, and suddenly all of his thoughts were purged from his brain.

“What about you?” Claude continued, green eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Might I get to know what to call you?”

“Uh…” A second hand had taken his own, their fingers interlocking perfectly like a key turned within its lock, and Dimitri was brought back to reality by the burn in his lungs as he forgot to breathe. He lifted his hand to rest lightly upon Claude’s shoulder, the last thing that was needed to slip into a proper dance position, the both of them mimicking the rest of the dancers on the floor. “I-I am called Dimitri. As that is my name.”

He was suddenly thrilled that Sylvain wasn’t around to see this.

“A nice name,” Claude said, and they were _moving,_ their feet gliding in time with the music, and Dimitri’s heart rate increased tenfold as his anxiety peaked. “Doesn’t sound all that Adrestian, though. You from around here?”

“I don’t live in Enbarr, no.” It was very hard not to stare at his own feet, Dimitri’s focus unevenly torn between the dance and the pleasant conversation Claude was trying to sustain. It took him a moment to realise he hadn’t properly answered Claude’s question, but his dance partner was already chuckling at his curt response.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as the mysterious type! Will I guess where you’re from, then?”

While Dimitri was having a very hard time speaking and dancing at the same time, Claude was full of chatter. Ironically enough, after dodging Dimitri’s earlier question towards his title, Claude had no shortage of questions himself. That gleam in his green gaze was still there, a curiosity that seemed to drive him, his attention focused entirely on Dimitri. It was slightly dizzying when combined with how they twirled around the dancefloor.

1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3… In his mind Dimitri counted the steps like Edelgard had taught him, taking great care not to accidentally mouth the numbers to himself. His surroundings became blurred as the world consisted only of himself and Claude, and the dance they were sharing together. Claude seemed to be very interested in this guessing game he’d cooked up. 1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3… “Go ahead.”

“Well, judging by your name and colours, I’d assume you’re from Faerghus.”

That was quick. “You are correct. Good guess.” 1, 2, 3....

“Ha! That wasn’t my guess! The real challenge is guessing what territory you’re from.”

1, 2, oh right. Dimitri supposed his Faerghus nature was obvious enough. This was taking a lot of concentration… 1, 2, 3…

“Hmm, tall, with golden blonde hair, and blue, _blue_ eyes...” Claude mused to himself quietly, the small smile on his face betraying the fun he was having. Dimitri wondered if he knew the answer already, and just wanted to drag out the pretense of being unaware for a moment longer. It wasn’t at all irritating, however. In fact, Dimitri found it quite endearing. 1, 2, 3…

“Got a lion theme going on? What a fluffy fur mane!” Claude moved their conjoined hands so that he could delicately touch the outside of Dimitri’s large collar. Dimitri let him move their hands without fuss, feeling the warm fur of his collar against the back of his gloved hand. 1, 2, 3… 

“And such cute little ears, too!” Their hands were guided up to Dimitri’s face, Claude’s fingers playfully tugging on the decorative lion ear of Dimitri’s mask, brushing ever so slightly against his real, _human_ ear. Dimitri felt like his whole being burned at the contact. 1, 2, 3, 4…

“With that in mind, I’d say you’re from– _ow!”_

A fumble and a mishap, and Dimitri was tripping over Claude’s feet with a small embarrassing yelp, stumbling around as he nearly dragged the both of them down to the floor in a heap had Claude not heaved Dimitri upright with all of his might.

Dimitri’s ears filled with noise as the quiet bubble he shared with Claude popped violently, his surroundings sharpening into focus. The moment Dimitri regained his sure-footing, Claude released him with a wince, shifting his weight off of his left foot. A hot spike of guilt shot through Dimitri at the sight, and his hands moved on instinct, hooking under Claude’s arms to help him balance on one foot.

“Claude!” Embarrassment coloured Dimitri’s face, causing him to stumble over his words. In the corner of his eye, he saw a head turn at his shout. “I’m so deeply ashamed, m-my sincerest apologies– are you alright?!”

Claude let out a pained chuckle in a failed attempt to laugh away his discomfort. “I’m fine, really, it was just an accident. It’s not like you didn’t warn me, either.” He shifted ever so slightly before jolting harshly, hissing through his teeth. “Gotta say though, you’re a lot heavier than you look.”

People were starting to look. Just a few, barely two or three, but it was enough for Dimitri to feel mortification drip down his spine. He saw Claude’s green eyes subtly drift around them, wincing slightly behind his mask, and Dimitri knew that he’d noticed the staring, too. He clearly didn’t like it.

Dimitri didn’t like it either, they way they looked at Claude. How they stared at him while he was in pain, while he was vulnerable. It made something burn in Dimitri’s chest, a feeling he was unfamiliar with. But his feelings were not important.

Claude was uncomfortable, and in pain. Dimitri was the one who put him in this situation. It was his responsibility to get him out of it.

“You’re hurt badly– come, I shall take you to the medical wing!” Dimitri hooked his arms around Claude more tightly, ready to sling the other’s arm around his shoulders before Claude pulled back slightly.

“Whoa there, hold your horses!” Claude held up his hands placatingly in front of Dimitri’s face. “I don’t need a doctor, really! I’m just–” Claude flinched, hissing a sharp breath through his teeth as he glanced down at his damaged foot.

Dimitri’s brow furrowed, the sight hidden behind his mask. “Please, if you won’t see a doctor, allow me to find you some place to sit. I promise I will leave you alone then.” _I promise you will be rid of me,_ is what he didn’t say.

There was a pause as Claude stalled momentarily, clearly thinking it over. His green eyes subtly darted around them, drinking in the sight of nosy onlookers that stared at them unabashedly over the shoulders of their dance partners. 

“Alright, I give,” Claude groaned sullenly, before hooking an arm around the back of Dimitri’s neck, the limb resting snugly in the warm fur of Dimitri’s collar. Claude pouted, sulking exaggeratedly, leaning all of his weight over Dimitri’s shoulders. “But you’re aware that there are no chairs in here, right? I doubt I’ll be able to _survive,_ standing on my poor, little, bruised foot!” The moody act was ruined by a wink and the flash of a grin.

Dimitri blinked, looking around. Indeed, Claude was right; there was no place to sit within the ballroom, unless Dimitri was willing to land Claude on top of one of the food tables, and he was _not._ They’d need to leave the ballroom, find some place else to sit, but it would be terribly inconsiderate of Dimitri to force Claude to walk out of here on an injured foot.

“H-hey! I was just kidding– it’s not that bad!”

Dimitri ignored Claude’s protests as he gingerly hooked his arm around the back of Claude’s knees and swept him up into his arms. Claude’s green eyes were wide, the grin slipping off of his face as Dimitri held him, carrying his weight like it was no effort at all. More people turned to look at them, but that only served to make Dimitri hold Claude closer to his chest, as if that would shield him from their prying eyes.

He moved with long, even strides, careful not to jostle the injured man in his arms as he made for the door. When Dimitri spoke, it was close to Claude’s ear, careful to keep his words between the two of them.

“Be at ease,” Dimitri murmured. “I’d never let you fall.”

Dimitri could feel the tension drain away from Claude’s body, relaxing into Dimitri’s arms as the prince fled the ballroom. He peered up at Dimitri behind his deer mask, green eyes glinting with something new.

“My hero!” Claude laughed. “Are you going to rescue me?”

“Of course. If that is what you wish.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


The drawing room they eventually happened upon was surprisingly small, considering it was part of the Imperial Palace. Dimitri found that he quite liked the smaller, cozier size, more so than the one he’d been expecting. It was comfortably furnished, with two couches facing each other, a table between them, and even a small scented candle placed upon said table. The candles and all the other candles in the room were already lit, and Dimitri would’ve presumed this room was in use had the fireplace not been left cold and barren. There was a window opposite the only door in the room, though sadly the view from it was pitch black, rainwater dribbling down the glass.

Yes, this would do.

Dimitri crossed the room towards the larger, more decorated couch. Claude was silent as he was lowered onto it slowly, having stayed quiet since Dimitri had carried him out of the ballroom, holding him close. His green eyes had trained themselves on Dimitri’s face and had not wavered even as he was placed upon the couch gently, Dimitri treating Claude as if he was made of the most delicate of glass, unwilling to cause his golden man any more harm than he already had. Dimitri’s arms and chest felt terribly cold as the warmth of Claude left his hold.

At this moment, Dimitri knew that it was his honor-compelled duty to make Claude the most comfortable man in all of Enbarr, taking great care to individually fluff all of the cushions on the couch. He could feel Claude’s unbroken stare on him as he did so, tinged with exasperation, until his furious fluffing was finally put to a halt by a hand on his arm.

“Easy there, big cat,” he chuckled. “I’d say you’ve already beaten the pillows into submission by now.”

Heat bloomed across Dimitri’s cheeks, a sight he could only pray was hidden behind his mask. He wasn’t sure whether or not he was embarrassed by being called out on his actions, or rather the strange nickname Claude had taken to calling him after his lion themed outfit. He cleared his throat lightly, knowing his voice would probably catch on his words otherwise.

“I merely wish for you to be comfortable. It’s the least I can do, after all the trouble I’ve caused you.”

Claude waved a hand, scoffing lightly. “I said I was fine, you big worrywart! The only trouble you’ve caused me is not allowing me to dance with you anymore.”

“Even so, I am terribly sorry for hurting you.” Dimitri bowed to Claude stiffly, feeling his back be strung taut with guilt. Claude may attempt to brush off his pain, but Dimitri would never allow anyone to grin and bear the consequences of his own oafish actions. He’d rather break his own foot as well. “I will do everything in my power to make it up to you. Please, anything you wish for, do not hesitate to call upon me.”

There was a wry smile on Claude’s face as he stared up at the prince with a critical eye. There was a short pause before he leaned back with a sigh. “You mind closing those curtains for me, then? The draft from the window is a bit chilly.” He rubbed his arms for extra measure.

Dimitri’s heart sank. “Oh, dear! You’re cold?” The curtains were closed swiftly after a few panicked strides towards the window. “I do apologize, I hadn’t noticed the nip in the air.” Inwardly, Dimitri cursed his Faerghus heritage. He was so used to icy temperatures, he hadn’t noticed the chill in this room! Now that he focused on it, he supposed this drawing room was slightly cooler than the ballroom, as he wasn’t as warm under his collar as he had been before. How long had Claude been uncomfortable?

“Oh– I’m not cold, not really.” Claude’s smile smarted slightly, and he stopped rubbing his arms immediately, choosing instead to cross his arms behind his head as he leaned back in his seat. “It’s just a draft, that’s all.” His mouth twisted when his golden antlers hit the frame of the coach.

“Are you sure?” Dimitri asked as Claude shifted awkwardly on the chair in a vain attempt to get comfortable. Dimitri glanced at the empty fireplace. “I could light a fire for you– though I can’t actually see any firewood there, b-but I can go fetch some!” Claude shook his head, his headdress swaying.

“Nah, it’s okay–”

“Really, it would be no bother at all–”

“It’s _fine!”_ Claude cut him off, his smile slipping momentarily. Dimitri’s stomach dropped like a stone, sinking further when Claude’s smile returned as if nothing had happened. “Seriously,” he chuckled, it must have been fake, “it’s alright. I’m fine, you’re fine. How about you just sit down, okay?”

Dimitri nodded quickly and did as he was told, taking a seat on the chair opposite Claude, his back ramrod straight.

They sat in silence.

Outside the door, Dimitri could vaguely hear the sound of violins and the rest of the orchestra playing. There was a rumble of conversation that travelled through the walls, every so often a shriek of laughter. There was a persistent rap of rain on the window behind the curtains. There wind whistled quietly through the chimney above the fireplace, a slight breeze that was icy even to Dimitri. Claude did not react.

Neither of them said anything. Claude was still staring at him, Dimitri could feel his unbroken green gaze set upon him. Dimitri’s eyes were on the flickering flame of the candle upon the table between them. He had no right to look at those green eyes, to see their discomfort, something he caused, and yet do nothing. He wondered how much longer Claude would be able to stand his presence.

Eventually Dimitri heard a sigh, the sound drawing his eyes away from the candle. Claude’s hands were on his headdress, gripping his golden antlers as they were removed from his head. With it came the mask, a delicate thing that was connected to the antlers as they were dropped unceremoniously upon the table. Claude rolled his head around his shoulders with a groan, stretching his neck as he ran a hand through his curly hair.

“Ugh, those things are _way_ heavier than they should be.” Claude laughed as he sent a smile in Dimitri’s direction, a bit more tired than the rest of the smiles he’d shown Dimitri earlier that night. “I think I’ll have to get a smaller pair next time, just to spare myself the ache in my poor little neck.”

Dimitri felt like he couldn’t breathe.

The smooth, tan skin around Claude’s eyes crinkled with his grin, his shapely brows curved gently around his expression. His long eyelashes fluttered with each slow blink with a grace that stole the air from Dimitri’s lungs. His braid rested like a feather against his cheekbone, his curls tickling his forehead with only the ghost of the softest touch. Claude’s fingers were brushing his fringe out his face, and Dimitri wanted so desperately to move his hand away, wanted to replace it with his own hand, wanted to… to… 

To do what?

“You don’t have to keep your own mask on, you know.” Claude’s emerald eyes glinted with a mischief that was all the more vivid without the barrier of his mask. “I have a feeling I already know who you are.”

“You do?” Dimitri’s mind was mush once more, though this time he had no idea why he’d become so distracted.

“I’ve got an idea, yeah.” Claude laughed, likely at Dimitri’s expense. He pondered for a moment while Dimitri stared at him in silence, before he lifted his hand. “Come here,” he beckoned, with his hand and his voice and his wonderfully welcoming expression. “You’re not gonna force an injured guy to move, are you? Lean forward.”

Dutifully, Dimitri leaned closer to Claude, hovering above the table on the edge of his seat. He watched, confused yet enraptured, as Claude slowly pushed his torso up off the cushions, careful not to move his ankle from it’s position on the couch. While one hand supported his weight against the chair, Claude’s other hand glided through the air towards Dimitri’s face, coming to gently pinch the bridge of his nose.

Dimitri’s world turned dark momentarily as the mask covered his line of vision, before it was pulled away from his face entirely. He saw Claude’s green eyes widen, only just slightly, before they softened, his gaze entwined with Dimitri’s.

“There you are.” He grinned, flashing white teeth. “Your Princeliness.”

Inside his chest, Dimitri’s heart thundered, and he had to breathe through his nose to keep himself from gasping. The strange nickname made heat rise to his cheeks. “How did you know it was me?”

Claude raised an eyebrow, raising the lion mask that was still pinched between his fingers. “You weren’t exactly subtle, big cat. Besides,” he winked, placing the mask down beside his own deer mask, “I make it a point to never forget a face. Especially not one like yours.”

Dimitri felt his face flush further, a feeling he could easily disregard due to the shock he felt from Claude’s statement. “You have been to Fhirdiad? Have we met before?” Dimitri felt disgusted by his own lack of awareness. Had Claude truly been so nearby as to be able to accurately recall all of Dimitri’s facial features, and yet the prince hadn’t noticed him? Worse yet, had Dimitri _forgotten_ him? That didn’t seem possible. There was no way that Dimitri would ever forget someone like Claude.

“I’ve seen you around,” was Claude’s vague reply, as he eased himself back down to rest upon the cushions on the couch. Dimitri back straightened once more, though did not move off the edge of his seat. “Could’ve sworn you weren’t much of a party animal, though. What brings you to _Enbarr,_ of all places?”

With his mask gone, uselessly placed upon the table, Dimitri felt his responsibilities creep up his spine. He was the prince of Faerghus; he was addressed as such, no matter how strange that address may have been. He hadn’t once heard his real name uttered upon Claude’s tongue (though the thought of what that might be like made Dimitri’s heart somersault within his chest). Claude may be casual with him, but that didn’t change the fact that they were ultimately strangers to each other, and that Dimitri had a duty to represent his nation. 

But as they were, Claude splayed comfortably across a large amount of cushions, a hand under his sharp jaw as he blinked curiously in Dimitri’s direction, Dimitri found that he didn’t particularly want to be a prince. Not with Claude.

Never with Claude.

“I was invited,” Dimitri stated simply, walking the line of personal and professional. “It would not do for me to turn down such a generous invitation.”

Claude’s eyebrows shot up, and Dimitri wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. “Invited? To an _Enbarr_ party?” Dimitri nodded, slightly confused. Claude laughed, the sound a tad breathless with disbelief. It made Dimitri’s head spin. “No one’s ever invited to a party in Enbarr! That’s just how it works here, even in the palace: the rumours about the upcoming masquerade ball _were_ the invitation.”

Dimitri frowned in thought. It was true that Emperor Ionius IX had never invited him to a ball before. He’d originally assumed he’d only been invited now due to his eighteenth birthday coming up soon, but then again, Dimitri hadn’t even seen Ionius at the ball, nor had he been greeted by the ruler at the door. Had Dimitri a more delicate ego, he may have been quite offended by this, and these small signs of respect usually meant a lot in the eyes of the court, especially when directed towards the crown prince of a neighbouring nation.

However, it wasn’t as if he’d been abandoned by the front door, either. The servants had come out to meet him, and had been very attentive towards him. They’d shown him to his room, had told him that Edelgard herself had been the one to prepare it…

_Edelgard._

“Hey, what’s up?” Claude’s head tilted to the side adorably, curiosity bleeding from every corner of his expression. “You look like someone just spat in your wine right in front of you.”

“It has come to my attention,” Dimitri said slowly, “that I’m not actually supposed to be here.”

His sudden realisation seemed to amuse Claude, whose toothy grin split his face in two. “I suppose that makes two of us.” And wasn’t that a can of worms ready to be opened. Claude glanced over it before Dimitri could ask. “What happened to your personal invitation?”

“I believe it was a hoax, made by a friend of mine.” Dimitri pinched the bridge of nose, the feeling reminding him of Claude’s faint touch from when he’d removed his mask earlier. “It is her absolute goal in life to get me to dance, and to do it well. I have my doubts that she’ll leave this mortal plane having accomplished that goal.”

Claude laughed, a surprised little thing that tore its way out of his chest. “She needed a whole scheme to get you to come? You’re not all _that_ bad at dancing, I’ve witnessed it myself!”

Dimitri gaped at him in disbelief. “Claude, I broke your foot.”

“It’s a bruise!”

“I hurt you!” Dimitri’s hands became fidgety as he broke Claude’s gaze to look at them, one hand gripping his wrist as he admitted his guilt. “I hurt everyone I dance with, El knows this. I shouldn’t have been so gullible as to fall for her plan.”

Claude’s sharp eyes softened, his curiosity halting in the face of Dimitri’s distress. “You wanna know what I think?” Dimitri met his eyes, reluctant to be rude. “I think I’m liking the sound of this ‘El’ person more and more.” Dimitri’s expression must have changed, because Claude was quick to clarify what he meant. “I know it was probably a bit of a trek to get here and everything, but I’m kinda glad you fell for her scheme. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to see you in action myself.” He winked at Dimitri, the sight making the prince’s stomach flip.

“While that is very kind of you to say, there is not much good to be had from seeing me ‘in action’.” Dimitri’s hands clasped together in his lap as he looked Claude dead in the eye. Claude had been so kind to him, and yet Dimitri hadn’t shown him any gratitude for his company, a lapse in his manners that ought to be rectified. “Though I must admit, I am glad that I came in the end. Meeting you has been the highlight of my night, and had I known I’d meet such a gentleman at this party, I would not have needed a false invitation to lure me here.”

Claude blinked, his brow reaching a new high on his forehead. He seemed lost on how to respond. Had Dimitri said something strange?

“...I’m glad I came, too,” Claude eventually offered, and his voice was quiet, different from how it had been all night. There was a shift in the atmosphere, a change of tone that stole the air from Dimitri’s lungs. He suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself, but he knew that what he was doing at that moment was wrong, that it wasn’t enough, that there should be something _more._

The moment was gone in a flash, Claude’s grin returning with a vengeance. “You wouldn’t believe the trouble I had getting here, though. I swear, my grandfather’s convinced I can’t walk on two legs. Just getting myself this costume was a nightmare!”

It took Dimitri a short moment to remember how to breathe, and another to answer. He cleared his throat slightly. “Your grandfather? Did he not approve of you coming to this ball?”

“Nope,” Claude replied, popping the ‘p’ with a wink. “The old crone has no idea I’m even here. He’d prefer if I was locked away all the time, like that’d help.” There was an underlying bite to his words hidden beneath his cheery demeanor.

A sharp pang of indignation was sent through Dimitri, an ire on Claude’s behalf. His grandfather wished to lock him away? What, was Claude a human being, or was he a bird in a cage? With the responsibilities that came with being a crown prince, and the constant eagle eye of the royal court, Dimitri knew well the infuriating feeling of having his whole life decided for him. “How horrible! You should be allowed to cut your own path, rather than have your freedom dictated by your grandfather.”

Claude didn’t seem to expect Dimitri’s reaction, looking slightly taken aback by Dimitri’s sudden change of mood. He switched course, his previous annoyance vanishing entirely. “Well– it’s not like he doesn’t have his reasons, or anything. And they’re pretty good reasons too, if I’m honest. You’d probably agree with him if you heard his side.” Claude said this all with a straight face.

What?! What was Dimitri hearing? What poison had Claude been fed, that he’d laugh away his independence so readily?

Dimitri leaned forward in his sudden vigour, nearly falling off his seat. “I could hardly believe that! What reason could he possibly have to hide such a remarkable person from the rest of the world?”

Claude’s eyes were wide from his words, a light flush dancing across his tan cheeks. He attempted a laugh, a feeble thing that died in his throat when Dimitri’s intense look did not waver. Dimitri wondered if he was being too harsh when Claude looked away, his long eyelashes hiding his green irises from view as his gaze swept across the floor.

“You wouldn’t say that if you…” He cut off.

Dimitri watched in confusion as Claude suddenly sat up on the couch, his eyes trained upon the curtains on the wall. Dimitri looked over himself, finding nothing worthy of notice, only the soft shadow of morning light from under the curtains. “Claude? What’s wrong?”

Claude’s head swivelled towards him at the call of his name, taking a moment to actually focus on Dimitri’s face before he spoke.

“What time is it?”

Oh. Dimitri had completely forgotten the time. Come to think of it, the party had gotten much quieter down the hall, and the rain had stopped its endless torrent against the window. “I’ve no idea. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s nearly dawn by now.”

Claude's hands were a flurry of movement as they patted down his chest, then moved down to his hips. He hissed a quiet curse, turning back to Dimitri. “Do you have a pocket watch or anything?”

Dimitri shook his head, feeling useless. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t– _Claude_ , what are you doing?!”

The prince near leaped from his seat with shock when Claude suddenly swung his legs off the couch, planting his feet on the floor and pushing himself up off the chair. Unsurprisingly, he immediately stumbled and fell forward, Dimitri having to catch him with a palm to his chest. Claude wheezed, giving Dimitri a winded smile. “T-thanks for the save, Your Princeliness.”

“Claude, you should be resting! Why are you on your feet?!”

“Well, the thing is, you see,” Claude swiped his deer mask off the table by an antler, almost knocking over the lit candle, “I’ve– I’ve actually gotta go, right now–”

“What? Wait!” Dimitri reached out with a cry as Claude staggered shockingly fast towards the door, grabbing onto the nearest thing that just so happened to be the second antler of Claude’s mask. Those green eyes turned to look at him, filled with a terror that made Dimitri’s blood turn to ice. “Please, slow down, let me help you–!”

Claude yanked the mask away from him, the solid gold antler breaking off with a horrible wrenching noise and held fast in Dimitri’s iron grip. The door was flung open and Dimitri could only watch, frozen in place as Claude fled the room, leaving only gold and a fleeting fondness behind.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Dimitri had looked everywhere for him.

It was foolish, he knew. Claude had likely left the palace, as he’d said he would, but Dimitri had no idea where he could’ve gone. Armed with a broken antler and adorned with a lion mask, the prince approached everyone he could find, asking if they’d seen a man with a mask with a single golden antler, wondering if they knew where he went. However, most of the guests still there were completely intoxicated, and the rest had nothing to tell him.

He’d even found Edelgard, asking her about the guest who wore the golden antlers. She had never even seen Claude at the party, as it turned out. Dimitri left her confused as he continued in his search.

Not long ago had the sun peaked over the horizon, bathing the marble walls in an orange light. Dimitri was sure he was going to lose himself in these long, winding hallways, cursing himself for abandoning Edelgard, the only person who knew the palace like the back of her hand.

He wandered aimlessly, clutching the gold close to his chest, his only memento of Claude’s company. Why was Claude in such a hurry to leave, to the point that he’d hurt himself just to escape from Dimitri? Why had he seemed so afraid, not of any obligation he was late for, but of Dimitri himself?

Why did Dimitri always manage to ruin everything?

“Whoa– hey man! Found you!”

Dimitri spun on the spot, looking for the voice that called out. He found Sylvain stumbling around a corner towards him, waving both his arms at him. He was grinning from ear to ear, his fox mask absent from his face, instead painted with a permanent red flush and a massive welt on his left cheek. “Sylvain, what…”

“You,” Sylvain hiccoughed, slapping a hand on Dimitri’s shoulder, “wouldn’ buh- _lieve_ the nigh’ I’ve had! Y’should’ve been there. Seerussly man, been lookin’ _ev’rywhere_ for you!”

Dimitri’s face fell, his regrets of the night catching up on him. “I… I apologise, Sylvain, I didn’t mean to worry you. I just got caught up in…” Visions of fearful green eyes flashed through his mind, and Dimitri shook his head with a sigh. “Never mind about that. I suppose it’s about time we found our way to our rooms.”

Sylvain giggled and snorted, his nose scrunching up at Dimitri like he’d said something strange. “Well, _yeah,”_ he waved his head in a direction of a nearby door, nearly falling over with his the force of it, “m’room’s righ’ there! Why y’think I’m here?”

Dimitri blinked, double taking at the sight of the door. “Indeed, you’re right. How silly of me.” The prince was sober, and he hadn’t even recognised the hallway he was in, despite having walked this very corridor mere hours ago. Dimitri was gobsmacked. Did Sylvain have a Loogian sense of direction?!

Now that Dimitri knew where he was, he knew how to get to his own room now. His fatigue was starting to catch up on him, and his body ached to lie down. It pleaded with him to give up on looking for Claude. “I’m… going to turn in for the night. Or morning, rather. I hope you had a good time.” He put on a brave face, trying his best to keep his disappointment out of his voice.

“I had a _great_ time! I’ll tell you _all_ abou’ it in th’mornin’. We gotta come ‘ere again!”

“Good, that’s good.” Dimitri nodded, deciding not to mention the fact that he hadn’t understood what Sylvain had said at all. He turned away to walk to his room, to admit defeat. That was all he ever did. “I’ll see you in the morning, Sylvain.”

“Wait, hol’ on, what’s with th’branch?”

“Hm?” Dimitri turned again to see Sylvain’s brow furrowed, his finger pointing in the general direction of the antler in Dimitri’s hand. The prince lifted the antler up in front of him. “Do you mean this?”

“Bro, s’that _solid gold?!”_ Sylvain seemed liable to fall over with his surprise, reaching out for the broken headdress. Instinctively, Dimitri pulled it away from his grasp, holding it close to his chest. “Where in Ailell d’you get _that?”_

Dimitri gazed down at the antler, holding it with both hands. In the sheen of the gold, he could see his own reflection, masked and hidden from the world. The base of the antler was horribly warped from where Dimitri had barbarically torn it clean from its headdress. His thumb stroked the mutilated end absentmindedly, as if that would undo the damage he’d brought upon it.

He realised he hadn’t answered Sylvain. “It… it belongs to the man who’d kept me company this night. I did not get the chance to return it to its rightful owner.”

There must have been something in Dimitri’s voice, or perhaps it was the set of his mouth, as Sylvain seemed to sober up slightly, his back straightening. “Whoa… I’m sorry, man. I had no idea…”

Dimitri’s gaze snapped back to his friend, surprised by Sylvain’s sympathy. It was quite touching, actually. “Oh, no, there’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m sure I’ll meet him again someday, and I’ll be able to give this back to him then.” Dimitri did not believe that to be true. No matter how he wished that Claude could be here, that they could dance together until Dimitri was a master, that his golden man would smile and laugh and hold him close… he’d lost his chance, and Dimitri knew that he’d have to live with that.

“Aw man, if I knew, I never would’ve thrown all those girls at you! I’ve clearly been doin’ this all wrong.”

Dimitri blinked, at a loss as to how Sylvain came to that conclusion. He decided not to ask, seeing how his friend was still drunk. He was too tired to try to make sense of it. “It’s quite alright, Sylvain, please don’t worry about it.”

 _"_ _Next_ time,” Sylvain staggered forward, pointing at Dimitri’s face, “I’ll find you what you’re _really_ lookin’ for. Don’t worry, you got Sylv on the case!”

Dimitri nodded placatingly, completely lost. “I’m sure you will. Now, time for bed.”

“Waaait, wait wait.” Sylvain grabbed at Dimitri’s arm, or at least attempted to, missing by about six inches. “Why d’you have a gold branch, anyway? Kind of a _weird_ thing to bring to a ball.”

Why can’t he just go to bed? “It’s not a _tree branch,_ Sylvain. It’s a decorative antler.”

Sylvain blinked at him as if he’d never heard any of those words before in his life. Dimitri sighed and held up the antler to his own head, mimicking where it would go had it been attached to his skull. Sylvain squinted at him for a moment like it was the most difficult thing in the world to comprehend, before the fog in his eyes cleared. His jaw immediately dropped and he pointed at Dimitri’s face again.

“That’s crazy! I, like, _just_ saw some dude run past me with one antler on his head, _wild.”_

Dimitri’s heart stopped.

He dropped his arms so quick he nearly hit his friend with the antler, his jaw dropping to match Sylvain’s. _“What?_ You saw him?!”

“Yeah! He was _so_ drunk, like you wouldn’t believe, dude could barely even walk–”

Sylvain cut off as Dimitri seized him by the shoulders, shaking him slightly as his mind buzzed with his excitement. _“Where did he go?!_ Please, tell me!”

“Whoa, geez, I saw him head to the gardens–”

Dimitri was gone in flash, running around the corner and leaving Sylvain flabbergasted behind him, all alone in the hallway.

He came back a few seconds later.

“...Where are the gardens?”

  
  


* * *

  
  


It was still raining outside, though the downpour was a mere drizzle in comparison to the storm that had raged earlier that day– or rather yesterday. The sun only barely peaked above the horizon, the light of dawn muted by scattered rain clouds.

Slipping across wet cobblestones, Dimitri sprinted out the palace doors to a large stone porch, finding a very set of stairs leading down to rows upon rows of rose bushes, the garden fenced in by the surrounding forestry. He stood at the top of the stairs, the highest vantage point, his eyes darting around the area, desperate to catch a glimpse of another human being. The garden was empty in such early morning, rainwater soaking Dimitri’s skin.

“Claude?” He called out, regardless of whether or not that was wise in that moment. “Claude! Are you there?”

In the corner of his eye, Dimitri saw… something moving. His head snapped to it immediately, not seeing anything there. It might have just been a bird, but could it have been…?

Dimitri rushed down the stairs, his heart in his throat. His very being screamed that he find Claude, that he’d lose the golden man if he didn’t try to find him, and that he’d never see him again if he was to give up now. Claude was hurt, in pain, he was going to be locked away again, and Dimitri didn’t want him to vanish, he wanted to help him, he wanted him to _stay,_ he–

He slipped.

Gravity was pulled out from underneath Dimitri as his foot missed a step, time freezing for a moment before he plummeted towards the ground. He bounced his shoulder off wet stone with a pained grunt, then his back, then his hip, before his face finally hit the mud.

Dimitri lay there for a moment, waiting for the world to stop spinning. His body ached where he’d hit the stairs, probably bruised. He didn’t think he’d broken anything.

He grit his teeth, lifting himself up off the ground. His mask didn’t come with him, pounded into the wet mud by the force of his fall. It had protected Dimitri for the most part from getting mud on his face, only allowing his chin to be splattered with muck. He moved to wipe it away with his hand, before realising his hands had been soiled as well.

He shook out his hands with a curse, sitting on the wet ground as the rain poured down on him. The antler was no longer in his hands. A quick glance around him and Dimitri saw it, the gold object sitting on the stone steps, the metal bent further out of shape. It was near unrecognisable.

Who was Dimitri kidding? What good was there to be had in searching for the golden man? Claude didn’t want him around, he’d run away, so why was Dimitri chasing after him like a madman?

Dimitri leaned forward, removing his mask from the mud. It was absolutely destroyed.

Claude had taken this mask off his face, held it with such a gentle care that Dimitri could never hope to replicate. He’d smiled when he saw Dimitri’s face, his green eyes lighting up like fireworks. He had looked so beautiful in that moment.

_“There you are, Your Princeliness.”_

Something had changed in Dimitri at the sight, a consequence of having received Claude’s smile. Dimitri didn’t think he’d ever be the same way he had been before, wasn’t sure if he wanted to be.

It made no difference. It wasn’t for Dimitri to decide if Claude should stay. He didn’t know enough about the golden man to ever find him again, and Claude had to be aware of that. He’d walked out, he’d made his choice, and Dimitri had to respect that.

But it hurt. Dimitri didn’t know why. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, but Claude had left such a lasting impression on him, the idea of living his life without him was so heart-wrenching, made him want to curl up on the mud and weep for the first time in years.

Dimitri dropped the mask onto the ground, blinking furiously as his vision began to swim. Finding a clean spot on his sleeve, he used it to wipe at his eyes, frustrated with himself. He scowled until his vision finally cleared. He’d hosted enough of a pity party for himself. He should get cleaned up and just go to bed.

Lowering his sleeve from his face, he looked down to find his mask on the ground, and…

There was something there.

Dimitri blinked leaning in closer. There, in the mud, just beside his mask. Markings.

They’d almost been washed away by the rain. Goddess knew how long they’d been there, but once Dimitri noticed them, they were unmistakable.

Deer tracks.

What a strange phenomenon. A deer, so close to the palace? How many wild deer were even in Enbarr in the first place? From what Dimitri had learned from his stepsister, the Imperial hunters did not look for game in the woods that surrounded the palace, the forest far too small to allow any deer to live there safely.

How coincidental, that Dimitri would happen upon tracks from the same animal that had saved his life mere hours ago. He remembered taking it as a sign from the Goddess that everything would be alright.

And then he’d met the man with the golden antlers at the ball.

Dimitri slowly stood, his mask forgotten. There was a trail of these markings, he could see it now. He didn’t even question the notion of following them, his feet already carrying him along before he realised what he was doing.

The deer who’d made these tracks was remarkably focused, making a beeline straight for the trees, not deviating at all to investigate the rose bushes. Perhaps someone had frightened it? Dimitri was no expert in hunting, but the tracks looked slightly odd to him. He couldn’t tell what was wrong with them; perhaps several things, perhaps nothing. He didn’t know.

It became more of a challenge to follow the tracks once they reached the forest. The branches overhead protected them from being washed away in the rain, but the brambles and leaves scattered across the ground made each imprint quite difficult to find.

Not long later, the tracks vanished entirely, disappearing down a steep slope. Taking care not to fall, Dimitri leaned over the sharp decline, examining the ground below. There was a massive gathering of red, yellow and brown leaves at the bottom, piled against the small cliff-face. As far as Dimitri could tell, there were no tracks around it, though if he squinted…

There _was_ something there, within the leaves. It glinted in the sunlight.

Dimitri scaled the decline, landing near to the pile. His body ached from his earlier fall, but he ignored it, drawing closer to the leaves. He reached for the object that glittered in the sunlight, grabbing hold. It was firm in his hands, smooth. He lifted it out, and felt his stomach twist like he’d been stabbed with a forked lance.

It was a golden antler.

In his hand was Claude’s broken mask, its owner nowhere to be seen. The sight made Dimitri’s heart soar, before it plummeted as he investigated the situation further. There were no tracks around, deer or otherwise, besides the prince’s own footprints in the mud.

He turned to the massive pile of leaves, his stomach sick with dread.

“Claude? Are you in there?” His voice was weak in his fear.

There was no response.

Dimitri plunged his muddy hands into the mass, falling to his knees as he tore through it, looking for any sign of life. His heart shrieked when he found a familiar hand, using it as leverage to search for Claude’s face. Gently, oh so gently, he hooked his arm underneath Claude’s back, lifting his upper body into his arms, a hand to the back of Claude’s head to support his neck. He did not lift it too high, only Claude’s face emerging from the leaves as if he were floating within a strange kind of colourful liquid. He seemed to glow in the light of day.

“Claude?” he whispered fearfully. “Claude, please wake up. _Please.”_

Claude didn’t react.

The man needed a doctor. Anything could’ve happened to him, after falling from such a height! Dimitri’s chest felt like it was ripping itself in two. He was so elated to have found Claude, here in his arms, but with Claude as hurt as he was, Dimitri felt he couldn’t bear to see him this way.

Dimitri brushed his thumb against Claude’s cheek in an effort to wake him, leaving a smudge on his face. He stopped immediately, inwardly berating himself for touching Claude with such filthy hands. He tried not to notice the feeling of Claude’s soft hair tickling his palms, tried not to acknowledge the way his own arms shook from how overwhelmed he was.

Claude’s fringe was messy, stuck to his forehead with rainwater, silt and dead leaves. Taking care not to dirty Claude’s face again, Dimitri combed it back with his fingers, away from his eyes.

His hand hit something solid.

It felt as solid as stone, rough like tree bark. Claude’s neck stretched when he touched it, and Dimitri flinched at his own rough treatment.

Dimitri took hold of the back of Claude’s skull, his forearm against his back, and pulled Claude’s head further out of the heap. The leaves shifted strangely just above the golden man’s head as he moved, two abnormal objects emerging from the pile with him.

Antlers.

 _Real_ antlers. Not gold, not some decorative headdress atop his head– no, there were _real antlers_ protruding from Claude’s skull. They arched gracefully above Claude’s head, far larger than the golden ones he had worn earlier that night. They blended in with the leaves near perfectly, their natural composition hiding them in plain sight.

Dimitri reached out to touch them again, his fingers barely ghosting the surface of one. His heart pounded at the rough texture under his fingertips, not dissimilar to dried bone. It was certainly no hallucination.

The antler suddenly jerked away from his touch, Claude’s head flinging itself out of Dimitri’s grip. Dimitri flinched violently at the sudden movement and his hands shot back to his sides, releasing Claude. The golden man in question was wide awake, a silver dagger in hand which seemed to materialize out of nowhere, a wild look in his forest green eyes.

Only then did Dimitri notice that his ears had changed too, now much longer and coated in brown hair.

Dimitri slowly raised his hands in surrender as the dagger was pointed at him.

“...Claude. I mean you no harm.”

Under the sunshower and surrounded by autumn leaves, Claude looked to be some kind of fierce forest deity, as threatening as he was benevolent. There was no smile on his face, not anymore. He didn’t say a word, only brandishing his weapon higher.

“Please, don’t be afraid,” Dimitri begged. “I only wish to help you.”

The dagger shook within Claude’s hand, though his green glare did not waver.

“I… I’m so glad I found you.” Dimitri’s voice cracked slightly as he continued to speak, seeing something change in Claude’s face at the sound. “I was so worried… that you’d be hurt and alone, and that I’d never see you again.”

“Stop _lying,”_ Claude cut in, his voice sharp and expression like stone. It was a far cry from the man who brushed his ear while they danced. Claude shifted his stance, and Dimitri saw one of his legs emerging from the leaves, covered in brown fur, inhuman. The shins of his trousers had been torn to shreds and his boots were missing altogether, revealing two deer legs that made up the lower half of his body.

“I would never lie about that!” Dimitri leaned forward, passion raising his voice, and the dagger flashed as the tip touched against his neck. He froze in place, his blood turning to ice. His voice wobbled when he spoke, hardly more than a whisper. “Please believe me when I say I only cared for your wellbeing. I didn’t think I’d be able to live with myself if you suddenly disappeared without a trace.”

“...And now?” There was an old anger in Claude’s eyes, born from experience and pain. “What do you think _now?”_

“I…” The sun emerged from behind the clouds, bathing Claude in speckled morning light. His antlers crowned him like a halo, the autumn leaves his colourful shrine. The dew that had gathered in his curly hair glittered in the sunlight, almost as bright as emerald eyes. His stance was that of a warrior, cloven hooves planted into the ground with a noble courage that took Dimitri’s breath away.

“...I think you’re beautiful.”

Green eyes widened, shock replacing their fury. Claude’s resolve seemed to shatter at his words, his dagger shaking in his grip. He lowered his weapon only slightly, gaze sharp for any sudden movements.

“You…” His eyes searched Dimitri’s face, as if it held all the answers to the universe. “You don’t think I’m some– some freak of nature?”

Dimitri’s heart screamed in his chest, but he didn’t dare move to comfort him in fear of scaring the doe-eyed man away. “Why on earth would I ever think that? You are nothing but extraordinary!”

Claude’s face crumpled, and his knife fell to the forest floor. Words came spilling out of him like a burst dam, a pain that he’d hidden away until now. “I… I wasn’t always like this. I used to be _human,_ like you. But even then, people believed that– that I shouldn’t be alive, that I was some kind of mistake, t-that–”

Dimitri took Claude’s hands within his own, entwining their fingers as Claude struggled to continue. He chose not to speak, encouraging Claude with his actions rather than interrupting his confession.

Claude took a deep breath, shuddering with the force of it. He seemed completely out of his element, clearly unfamiliar in receiving kindness from a stranger. Though Dimitri did not know if they were strangers anymore. Certainly, his heart didn’t believe them to be.

“Some people stole me away one night, while I was sleeping. I never learned who they were. I-I know I’m lucky they didn’t kill me, but…” Claude shook his head, his eyes squeezing shut. “They took everything from me, when they cursed me to look like _this–”_ he broke Dimitri’s gaze to stare down at his legs– “during the day.”

“Claude…” He released one of Claude’s hands, reaching for the other man’s cheek. Claude flinched as Dimitri’s hand entered his vision, the prince’s hand freezing in mid-air so as to not alarm the other man further. “I’m so sorry… How could anyone do such a vile thing to another human being?!” The hand held in front of them twitched with the urge to clench into a fist in Dimitri’s fury, but instead he curled a finger under Claude’s chin, guiding the golden man to look him in the eye.

“I’m… appalled,” Dimitri continued, “that someone could look at you and see you as anything less than wonderful.” He heard something hitch in Claude’s throat. “I haven’t known you for very long at all, and yet you’ve already become so very dear to me.”

A wet laugh bubbled in Claude’s throat, paired with a wobbly smile that seemed to have been shocked out of him. His expression was a twisted mix pleasantly surprised but also deeply confused. “‘ _Dear_ to you?’ Bit of a strange time for jokes, don’t you think?”

Horror convulsed in Dimitri’s chest and he surged forward, pressing his palm into Claude’s cheek. “I would never _joke_ about that, Claude! I’ve said nothing but the truth!” He was nearly nose-to-nose with Claude by how close he’d gotten, Claude’s wide green eyes filling his vision. “You _are_ wonderful! Incredible! Magnificent! The awe you inspire within me leaves me shaken each time I gaze upon you.”

Claude laughed again, breathless, clearly unsure of what to do. “I– Y-you– that’s not–” He cut himself off with another airy laugh, his hand raising to rest upon the back of Dimitri’s, cradling his cheek. His wobbly smile was genuine, and his green eyes shone with something new. “...You are probably the strangest prince I’ve ever met, Dimitri.”

 _You’ve met other princes?_ Dimitri did not ask that question, his head too busy singing from the sound Claude’s voice uttering his name. Faintly, he wondered if he’d float away into the sky in that moment had Claude not been holding his hand.

“...Your curse,” Dimitri murmured instead, his gaze trapped within Claude’s, “do you know of any way for it to be broken?”

“Maybe,” Claude whispered. “A hunch. Or a fairytale. Would you be willing to try?”

His thumb stroked Claude’s cheek, warm underneath his hand.

“Anything for you.”

Dimitri was still as Claude leaned forward, his heart lightning fast within his chest. Around him, birds sang as they woke up to morning glory, the sun sweeping away the cold of the night’s storm, the autumn leaves their blanket as their lips pressed together softly.

Dimitri’s eyes stayed closed in bliss even as the world glowed outside of his eyelids, a hand weaving through his hair with a softness that made Dimitri shiver. He felt a warmth so pure, like a hearth had been lit inside him, and that he had finally come home. It curled around him, emanating from the man who held him close, and Dimitri never wanted to let him go.

Slowly, Dimitri pulled away from the kiss, wanting– no, _needing_ to gaze upon Claude's face once more. In front of him, Claude shone with a heavenly light, his skin golden like his heart. Dimitri could not look away as Claude’s eyes fluttered open, his expression tender as he watched Dimitri, before his brow furrowed. He pulled back sharply, holding up a glowing hand.

“What the…”

Dimitri chuckled as Claude gazed at his own hand in wonder, his eyes going wide when he noticed his glowing legs, attached to glowing feet, attached to glowing toes. A desperate bubble of laughter escaped from his chest, and he stared until the glow disappeared, leaving his human legs to remain under the light of the sun. 

Dimitri gasped when Claude flung his entire body weight at him, throwing his arms around Dimitri’s neck as they both fell backwards into the pile of leaves. His body ached as he hit the ground, his bruises smarting, but Dimitri could not find it in himself to care, not when Claude was kissing him again, stealing the air straight out of his lungs.

They broke apart, giggling like school children, and Dimitri ran a hand through Claude’s soft curls, his golden man’s head light and free from the weight of giant antlers.

“Will you stay?” Dimitri smiled against Claude’s lips. “Or will I have to chase after you again, my dear?”

Claude snorted, an ugly sound. Dimitri loved it. “Okay, now you definitely did that on purpose.”

Dimitri blinked. “Did what?”

Claude sighed, shaking his head with a smile. “I’ll stay, my lion. Though I do love a good chase.”

The prince pecked the golden man’s lips, taking delight in the warmth that filled him from head to toe. Their foreheads pressed together, fatigue catching up on them both as they kissed each other drowsily.

“If that is what you wish, then I’ll happily chase you to the ends of the earth. I promise you that.”

**Author's Note:**

> im very sorry about the deer jokes
> 
> in the end, dimitri would never learn about the night sylvain had, as the man would forget all of it come morning. very sad
> 
> I hope I've done the prompt justice >~< i had a lot of fun writing this  
> All comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! and I'm [@Quiverquill1](https://twitter.com/Quiverquill1) on twitter for anyone who wants to chat about dmcl（*´▽`*)


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